Fear
by CookiesxMilkEXCITEMe
Summary: Some people escape it, others can't get out of it's way, and some are just unlucky enough to have to live in it, but either way, Everyone's afraid of something... cluster of one-shots/drabbles revolving around the phobias of the characters of Zatch Bell
1. Traumatophobia

Alright then... (sigh) I never have anything to say anymore. I guess I'll continue... WAIT! I do have something to say!... Um... I forgot... well I hope all of you people like it. I guess... Oh WAIT I REMEMBER! I was explaining what this was about. Oh yeah... This story is a cluster of drabbles/one-shots about the paranoia disorder called phobias each character is going to have a different phobia each chapter and shit... yeah... That's basically it if you don't understand something then just leave it in a review I guess...

Disclaimer: I DO NOT! IN ANY WAY, SHAPE ,OR FORM! OWN THE ANIME ZATCH BELL! It belongs to the god of anime also known as Makoto Raiku.

Traumatophobia- Fear of injury; looking at an injury; or fear of having an injury

Rating- T

Spoilers- Maybe (mentions Zeno's training I guess)

"_Shhhhhh_" I hiss in pain from the alcahol she was pouring on my milky-white skin. The cut was too discusting to look at. The flesh that protected my bone was torn and protruding , and blood seeped out of my skin, splashing a bit of color onto my dull epidermis. I look up from the cut to my milk mother. She smiles sweetly to me as I stare into her eyes and look away, my eyes tracing back to my cut. I want my eyes to ditch the deep laceration, but my eyes are trailed to them. Bandages shortly shelter the blistering wound as I look up to the person healing them.

"Don't look at it Zeno," she began staring me straight in my eyes, "I know that its not pleasant to look at, but honey give with time to heal and your arm will be as good as new," she then smiled at me sweetly.

I look her straight back in her eyes, finding only care incarcerated. I look back at the ground right before answering with an honest: "Alright."

I walk out of the nurses office of my house. It was getting late that night as I walked to my bedroom, in the sever cold, my mantle tightly wrapping around me in an attemp to keep my body warm. My feet ached while I continued to go step-by-step up the diamond incased stairs all the way up to my gray chamber. I slowly pushed open the gateway to my corridor open while I sat upon my poofy, monotonous bed spread.

Taking off my white shoes, I see blisters forming around my tiny inpigmented toes, I squint my eyes at the sight as I bow my head while I look away. I hated the sight of my self bring hurt. The tiniest cut would send me into mental goosebumps. I'd always get dizy from the mere sight of graze or scratch. I close my eyes tight as my muscles tighten up. I felt light headed as I cover my bloody arm from this morning's training session. I couldn't do it anymore. The pain of seeing myself battered and bruised everyday gave me the chills of knowing that as each day went by, I'd have another bruise to add to my collection. My stomach churns as I realize what's going to happen next.

Vomit.

Servents rush into my room as I pick up my face from the floor, my entire chin shielded in the solidy liquid, "Zeno, are you alright?" Nurse asked me, concern obvious in her voice.

I replied with the best answer that was available to me.

Silence. 

She didn't seem to mind my absence in response as she gently placed her hand on my forehead, "You don't seem to be sick," she stated peeling away her hand. I didn't respond or speak, the only time I'd open my was to either breath or just moving my tongue against my teeth. She looked into my eyes as I stared at the servents cleaning up my ralph, as I heard some people call it, "Zeno,"she began again this time I looked at her, "you can tell me anything. That is if you're scared of something or, anything." She reassured, rubbing my back before she left.

I stared at the tiled floors, in the ebony darkness. No reason at all. Just to do it. I lay in my bed and stare at the ceiling, the smell of spew still loitered around the floors. I ignored it as the pain of my left arm while my eyelids closed. Sleep was what I needed and no amount of pain could keep me from doing it.

XxXx

"Zeno, wake up!" I hear over the intercome in my house. My dad was trying to communicate to me. I slowly get out of my warm bed so I could go and get more bruises. _Horray for me_. My muscles tighten again as I make my way out of my place of comfort into a place where I'd bleed until I passed out. I sigh in pain as my arm screamed in agony. The wound of course was still there, but not as revulting. It seems as if sleep has done me some good.

I didn't remember putting my shoes on as they squeak, annoying my ears. I open the huge double-doors as I step through, seeing my trainor. I don't even get any lunch before I had to battle. Which by the way _sucks_. I look up to my coach as he's saluting in the visual presence of the monarch of Makai, my father, "Continue with yesterday's training, no breaks," father said blankly, his deep voice no deeper than usual.

He puts his hand down as he looks at me. Taking a sludge hammer from around his back he sets himself in position for battle. I slowly start to hyperentalate from the memories of the pain of yesterday's training. I close my eyes as his weapon make direct contact with the left side of my head.

The ruby-incrested tile floor shone in my eye as I struggled to get up, "GET UP ZENO!" my father yelled from the throne room, "THERE'S NO WEAKNESS IN THIS FAMILY!" I finally get to my feet as I see him get in position again. I have serious migrain, I put my head in my hand as my eyes widen, quivering, I withdraw my hand from my head as I see the crimson liquid dripping from my hand. My hyperventalating gets a little louder.

I've been hurt.

I look up from my red hand up to my trainor, he's obviously ready to continue, "ZENO, PUT UP YOUR HANDS AND FIGHT!" Father yells again from a place I cannot determine. I look over to my teacher who's still in position. I glare, not at him doing what he's doing, but actually at myself. At myself for letting this get in my way. My hands slowly make their way in front of me as they ball into fists. I get into position ready to stand my ground, ready to come on top, and ready to cease the contusion.

**I don't think that I did very well on this phobia. This was supposed to be a cluster of drabbles, but I made this a little too long. Well I'll try and do better next chapter. Please review.**

**SAYA OUT! DUECES!**


	2. Algophobia

Nobody except The Writer of Stories reviewed last chapter, but she doesn't count. Was it that bad? Well I'm going to TRY and submit a chapter each night, but I do have school though.

Algophobia- Fear of Pain (Different from fear of injury)

Rating- T

* * *

Spoilers- Not if you didn't know that Zatch had an abusive foster mother.

Backing away from the fat lazy with her hair in a bun, I stumbled, looking deep within her eyes pleadingly. She reached her right hand over and grabbed a fistfull of my hair, pulling me at her eyes' altitude, "Ahhhh ahhhh, that hurts!" I screamed grabbing her hand only for her to grip tighter on my hair.

"Didn't I tell you to clean the house before I came home?"she screamed in my face, spotting it with spit. I squinted not wanting to look her straight in her eyes. Getting aggitated at my lack of answer, she threw to the ground like a sack of patato's, the back of my head hitting the wall raucously, leaving a huge dent where my head made contact. I struggled to get up as I heard footsteps advancing towards me. Again, she grabbed a fistfull of my yellow hair, pulling me up to where we could again meet eye-to-eye, "I didn't get an answer!" she yelled yet again getting closer. I looked at the ground, trying to avoid her cold eyes.

The angrier she got, the tighter she grasped my locks. Clentching her teeth together, she took all the might in her right arm to throw me against the hard-wood door. I slowly slid down the rough surface, my face almost clinging to it right before I dropped to the hard wooden floor, my nose bleeding from the impact. I slowly rise from my back, my left hand covering my nose completely as I try and get to my feet. Not before long she stomps to my current location, which is still by the door, and grabs the back of my mantle, taking her right hand, she smacked the back of my head causing me to cover my cranium, "Move your hand," she ordered, her voice deep and serious, "before it gets worst," she warned. I was too scared of the pain.

I was so paranoid I almost didn't even hear her commands, almost. A few seconds went by as my hands didn't move a nanometer, she started vibrating with anger as she took her left hand and used it to grab both of my own, placing them on my lap as she continued swatting my head with her right hand, "Stop it please!" I screamed, not wanting the pain anymore, "I'm sorry!" I shouted to her in a pleading manner.

"Oh I know you are," she said matter-of-factly while she continued to spank my head, "you should've said that when you had the chance and now you get your punishment," this so called _'punsihment' _lasted for what seemed to be ten more minutes later, she stood up and picked me up by the back of my mantle again, "Now go and clean!" she ordered, pointing to the kitchen.

I ran there automatically, not wanting to feel the sensation of pain anymore, I quickly grabbed the broom and continued sweeping, "Yeah I thought so," she spat before sitting down on the sofa, watching me do my chores.

**I don't think I got the point across very well in this chapter... Oh well please review. That's the only thing that'll keep me updating. **


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